Only A Game
by Bradykins98
Summary: The 141 goes paintballing to celebrate Roaches birthday. Chaos ensues when Ghost gets beaten in the free for all by a teenager. On Hiatus, sorry.
1. Arrival

Only a Game

A Call of Duty Fan Fiction

March 4th

2015

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Operation "Cherryball"

I was practically bouncing with excitement in the car as we neared our destination.

"Roach, calm down will you. You're rocking the whole car." Says Ghost, my XO, and also the one whose driving the Ford Focus. He always wears a black balaclava with an image of a skull on it and dark red shades. He was even wearing them now, even when he knew where we were going. He was clearly getting irritated by my childish behaviour.

"Sorry, sir." I said for what must have been the fifth time today so far. Roach, get in the car! Roach, hurry up in the toilets! Roach, stop playing that stupid game so loud. Roach, stop saying "are we nearly there yet", it's for little kids!

"And don't call me sir! We're off duty remember?" comes the frustrated response.

Make that six times.

We finally arrive at our location. I burst out of the car, nearly smacking Meat in the back of the head as he got out of Archer's car, a Citroen. Meat turned to Ghost, a confused look on his face.

"What got into him?" he asked

"No idea, come on, we'd better make sure he doesn't get into to much trouble." Was Ghost's reply as he walked casually after the bug, a slight grin obscured by his balaclava.


	2. The Brief

March 4th

2015

Operation "Cherryball"

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I swear to god I am going to kill Roach. It was bad enough that he dragged me here, but he forgot to mention that we wouldn't be the only ones. As I walk under the camo netting acting as a gate, I spot a group of teenagers, sitting at one of the benches. I groan inwardly. I HATE children. I just hope that they are on the opposite team to me, so I don't have to put up with them whining so much. Got to admit, I am kind of looking forward to this, I mean, I still haven't gotten Royce back for painting my pistol pink. It was embarrassing shooting Ultranationalists with a bright pink USP. I think it's only fragging if it's the guy is in command of you…

One of the marshals calls us to the centre to receive our briefing.

"Allright listen up, because I'm only going to say this once" he says. "My names Phil, but you can call me sir, that understood?"

"Yes sir!" comes the unified response, the 141 surprisingly less eager than the teens. They're probably comparing this Phil to Captain Price.

Phil continues "Welcome to Spec Ops Paintball, the best paintball experience in the county. We pride ourselves on providing a military-style day of adrenalin, rivalries and those perfect headshots."

He picks up a paintball gun and holds it up, showing it to the crowd.

"This is an M16-A4. It's your standard primary weapon for today, and is used by the US Military. The paintballs are loaded here," He points to the magazine

"There are forty paintballs in a mag, and you get ten mags per round." He placed the gun on the table where he picked it up, and held up a pistol he pulled out from a hip holster.

"This is the Glock 17, your pistol for the day, you get five magazines for it and each mag has twenty paintballs in it. This is great for close quarters, and for shaming your rival. You can tell if you've been hit by a pistol, as its paintballs are pink."

I saw Royce glance at me out of the corner of my eye, a smirk on his face. I'm going to kill him too, I decide. Then prank him back.

The marshal continues "However, you can upgrade your weapons for the small price of five pounds." Like I'll do that. He picked up a different weapon off the table. "This is the M4A1 carbine, a shorter version of the M16. This is different from the M16 as it has a red dot scope and a foregrip, its also shorter and fires fully automatic. It shares its magazines with the M16 as well." A lot of the teens look really eager to hire that gun, all except one, a tall, muscular, dark haired one. He seems like a dick to me.

Phil picks up yet another gun from the table. Are these endless? "This is the M14 DMR, it's a marksman's weapon this, a real beauty." He cocks the gun with an audible _click-click_. Just like the real thing. "This has a times ten sniper scope, and is designed to get headshots across the playing field." Phil drones on. Just shut up, I think, and give me the gun. He says the M14 has a ten round magazine and other details. Only me and the dark haired teen seem interested, not even Archer and Toad, who are 141's snipers. What is going on? He also says that you get twenty magazines for this, to balance out the fact that it has less ammo.

He then goes on to tell about the rules. There are two teams, Red and Blue. You can tell who's who by the colour of their mask. Wait, will I have to take off my balaclava. I dearly hope not. I've never taken off my legendary balaclava. Not even when I kissed Soap. All I'm saying is, we were drunk and I was dared to do it, and I never chicken out on dares. I look at the Scottish captain, a worried look on my obscured face. He guesses what's wrong and nods in conformation. My heart sinks. No ones ever seen me without my mask apart from Soap. Phil explained the rest of the rules and then the other marshals issued the facemasks. I was given a blue mask. I saw that Royce had a red one. Now it was my turn to grin at him as he realised. Not even my balaclava could hide it. Never seen someone turn so pale so quick.

After my intimidation masterclass, I head over to the sales tent, a five pound note in my hand. I NEED one of those M14's. I have to queue for some time, as the M4A1's are incredibly popular. I see Soap and Roach come out with two, and Roach is practically bouncing, he's that excited. Hard to think he's a stone cold killer when he needs to be. Glad to see they're on my team though, can use some help getting Royce back.

It's finally my turn to buy weapons. "One M14, please." I ask, handing over my five pounds. I hear a young voice behind me.

"So you have some common sense too." I turn round. It's the dark haired boy. He must be around fourteen, I reckon.

"Uh, yeah" I reply, trying to keep my voice under control. This little bugger seems arrogant as well as a dick.

"Well, see you on the battlefield" he say's, winking at me whilst walking off with an M14 of his own. He has a red mask. Good, I'll enjoy laying waste to him to. The marshals call us to enter the game area. Time to kick some ass.


End file.
